Marked By Moon And Blood

The interview Serena’s POV “Ting. Ting.” The vibration against my palm dragged me out of sleep. I groaned, rolling onto my side, squinting at my phone through half-closed eyes. It was too early. My brain barely worked, but the notification banner caught my attention. Hartfelt Enterprises – HR Department I sat up instantly. You have passed the preliminary interview. The final stage will take place today at 10:00 a.m. on site at Hartfelt Enterprises. Congratulations, and good luck. For a full second, I just stared at the screen. Then I gasped. “I passed!” I jumped out of bed so fast my foot tangled in the blanket and I nearly fell flat on my face. I didn’t care. I was smiling too hard to care. “I passed. I’m one step closer.” One step closer to stability. One step closer to the life I’d been chasing since college. A decent salary. A future that didn’t feel like it could collapse at any moment. I checked the time. 8:30 a.m. “Oh no.” I had exactly one hour and thirty minutes to get to Hartfelt Enterprises. I bolted for the bathroom, showered faster than I ever had in my life, and rushed back into my room, water still dripping from my hair. My wardrobe stared back at me in quiet judgment. It wasn’t much, but I pulled out my already-ironed navy suit like it was treasure. Dressed, light makeup applied, hair pulled into a neat bun, I grabbed my bag and keys and headed out the door. “I’m off,” I muttered to my empty apartment. The taxi ride was torture. Traffic crawled. Every red light felt personal. I kept checking my phone, fingers tapping nervously against my bag. By the time we pulled up in front of the towering glass building marked Hartfelt Enterprises, my heart was racing. I paid quickly and ran inside. I was moving too fast to watch where I was going. Thud. I crashed straight into someone solid. Very solid. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted, bowing slightly out of instinct. Then I looked up. And forgot how to breathe. He looked unreal, like someone painted him instead of born him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. Black wavy hair that fell perfectly into place like it didn’t know how to misbehave. And his eyes— Golden. Not hazel. Not brown. Gold. Deep and intense, like they could see straight through me. My heart sped up. Fear? Attraction? Something else? I couldn’t tell. He frowned, clearly annoyed. “If you’re blind,” he said coldly, “get a cane.” His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “I—I’m sorry, sir. I was in a hurry.” “In a hurry to where? Your grave?” He pulled out a handkerchief and brushed at his shoulder like I’d stained him. “You just ruined my morning.” I clenched my fists, forcing a smile. I needed this job. “I’m sorry, sir.” Then something in me snapped. “Actually,” I said sweetly, “you’re right. I should get my eyes checked. That way next time I see a big, arrogant, rude snob, I can avoid him in advance.” I turned and walked away before he could grab me or respond. My heart was pounding again, but this time it wasn’t fear. I reached the interview floor with minutes to spare. The waiting room was sleek and intimidating, all glass walls and soft lighting. Other candidates sat quietly, dressed in expensive suits, calm and confident. I took a seat, clutching my folder like it was armor. You deserve to be here, I reminded myself. A woman stepped out and called my name. “Serena Louise.” I stood and followed her into the interview room. Three people sat at the table. Two from HR and one man seated in the center, hands folded, posture commanding. My stomach dropped. Golden eyes. It was him. The rude, arrogant man from earlier. He looked up at me slowly, recognition flashing across his face. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Well,” he said coolly. “This should be interesting.” I swallowed and took my seat. The interview began professionally enough. They asked about my education, my experience, my ability to handle pressure. I answered calmly, confidently, even as my nerves screamed inside me. Then the questions became harder. “How do you handle difficult superiors?” “With professionalism,” I replied. “And patience.” His eyebrow twitched. “What would you do if your employer treated you unfairly?” “I would evaluate whether it was constructive criticism or personal bias,” I said carefully. “If it affected my work environment, I’d address it respectfully.” Silence followed. He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving my face. “And what if your employer is… demanding?” “I believe excellence requires high standards,” I said. “As long as expectations are clear, I meet them.” Something unreadable crossed his expression. The HR members exchanged looks. After a moment, the woman smiled. “Thank you, Serena. You may step outside.” I stood, nodded politely, and left the room. My legs felt weak as I sat back down in the waiting area. Minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Finally, the door opened again. “Serena Louise.” I stood. “Congratulations,” the woman said warmly. “You’ve been selected as the personal assistant to our CEO.” My breath caught. “You start Monday.” I smiled so hard my face hurt. As I turned to leave, I felt eyes on me. Golden eyes. Watching.